Waltz
by masquerade kiss
Summary: It never fails. On the nights after a losing batte against Slade, he would come. And they were to few.


Authors note: a quick one-shot of my favorite couple in Teen Titans! Read and review guys I would really like to hear what you guys think about it. Oh and this is a high T rating nothing to explicit. Im pretty sure the rating seems just fine because to me, by the time we are thirteen im pretty sure we all know about sex so… yeah. Enjoy C:

XXX

It would never fail. On the nights after a losing battle against Slade he would come. And they were to few.

And on those nights were the only time that the raw hate she held for him would lessen. Why she hated him was on a flighty memory. Sometimes she thought she was going crazy as she thought about him.

But falling asleep, the metal door would slowly open and close and the shuffling of a body making their way to the bed, she knew what she was waiting for. And he would only come after she was asleep. She would wait for the cold fingertips to trace lines against her sides as he crawled above her. The thin sheet clutched against her chest and waist, leaving the rest of her exposed, in her shorts and sports bra, all to his eyes. What he saw in her, she would never know. He was a mystery to her just like the places he went when he left her in the cold of the middle of night.

There was never a need to speak to him. He seemed to understand what her body told him. He would lift his fingertips to her shoulder and be on her, lips to hers and she would only then react to him, moving her hand to the back of his neck and hold him against her.

There was some kind of warped beauty in the way they fit together, she would sometimes watch the lovers on the beach, the way they held each other. And she just thought that no matter the way they dressed, the way they looked, what they said, they always seemed to fit perfectly in the sleeve of absolute chaos, and at the same time, absolute beauty. Snd she knew, somewhere inside her, that was never going to be them.

His hands running up her sides, his body somewhere above her, buts still so far away. And then their mouths molded together. Somehow the sheet would always be on the floor in the morning, and besides the empty pit in her heart that was her only proof that he visited. And then somehow her shorts and sports bra would be gone, she never found them in the mornings. His clothes would have been shed when he entered the room. The pressure on her hips was always near to much. The grinding that followed nearly sent her to screams. She hated him then. She always hated him.

And then he would draw his lips from hers and lay them on her neck, pulling at the skin and making her gasp and sometimes nearly cry. But no matter how many times they danced this motionless waltz, he would always lay his lips back on hers as he would enter her. Habit from the beginning. And then just as quickly they were gone, and she would feel them on her neck, collar bone, or chest moments later. And then the real dance started.

When had their proverbial waltz started? Had she been fourteen, fifteen maybe. Laying his lips on hers as he entered to stop the scream that entering her used to make, keeping her from waking the entire tower. She washed her own sheets and the team never had an inlking of what transpired on the nights after a loss. But still it continued for four years maybe. Was this harassment maybe, rape. _No you cant rape the willing, _and she took him in just as her took her. These were the things she thought as she hated him. As much as she wanted to change the lock on her door and lock it, she knew she could never do that.

Holding her against him and rocking back and forth, she knew she could never do that. She needed to feel that fakely-transpiring love inside her. As she took him in and then let him out and back in, she knew that she didn't hate him, just wanted to, needed to hate him for leaving her cold every morning. But as he held her neck to his lips, she knew she would never change her code or lock the door, and she would never be able to hold another.

And then it collapsed. Crashing around her like a brick wall. He only slowed for a second before the moan in her throat drove him to continue. _Always. _This was their proverbial and perverted waltz. She knew that, given history, he would take her another five more times in the night, rougher and fiercer than the last. That was why she knew she could never hold another man and love him as much.

While she held him there, slipping between coherent an oblivious, she prayed and somewhere in the back of her mind, she was screaming for him to stay with her. So she could wake up next to him next to her. But in the front of her mind she was just softly cursing him and wishing he would go now. His breath evened out and his eyes remained closed, but they always did.

He was beautful. From the lines on his back to the look in his eyes when she sees him looking at her. But the feel of his near-velvet skin was what made him beautiful to her. And that was the last thought she would have before falling into the sea of hard sleep. That was the last thought she would have before he would leave her.

The next morning she woke up clinging to a fluffy white pillow that had somehow managed to stay on the bed through the ruckus of the night. She looked over the spotless carpeted floor that was partially covered with the blue sheet from the bed. _There were no clothes on the floor. _She sat up a little leaning on her elbow, while the rest of her body was shallowly exposed to the sun coming through the window. She was tired of what she always knew was coming on the night after a fight.

Maybe she was just tired of loving, and at the same time, hating him. Looking at the door, she had to close her eyes and take deep breaths to calm her. Now she just hated him.

The mornings were always the same. They would barely cast a glance at each other and each time she felt her heart breaking. Ever since he helped her defeat her father she knew she was falling for him. She would stare at him through her eyelashes as he would sometimes pass by, his nightwing costume exentuating every muscle on his body. Their eyes would lock and before and word could be uttered, the alarm would trigger and the red lights would flash throughout the tower signaling another crime taking place.


End file.
